


A Walk in Time

by allmylovesatonce



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmylovesatonce/pseuds/allmylovesatonce
Summary: Claire is a historian with the opportunity to go back to the past for 2 days. Joe has tried to talk her out of it, but Claire won't be swayed. The idea of getting to be a part of history is too strong to resist. But once she gets there, will she be able to return? And more than that, will she want to return?
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 22
Kudos: 141





	A Walk in Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was my story for the moodboard challenge happening on tumblr and twitter! For a look at the absolutely gorgeous moodboard made by triskell21279, follow this link! https://three-drink-amy.tumblr.com/post/189686454796/a-walk-in-time

“You can’t be serious,” Joe said to me. 

I shrugged and insisted that I was. 

“That’s insane, Claire.” 

“Lamb did it,” I reminded him. Somehow, my uncle had become the standard for both of us. 

“Lamb’s dead.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Not because of this.” I crossed my arms. “If you recall, he did the same thing when he was around my age. That’s how we know it works. I can’t believe we found it again.” 

“I can’t believe you actually want to try it. It’s crazy. You could die. You could get stuck there. What would you do if you were never able to come back?” Joe asked. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s a risk I have to take.” 

“You don’t  _ have _ to take it. You could just be a normal, rational person who doesn’t try to go hopping through time for their own pleasure. You could just stay in the 21st century where you belong.” 

“I mean, you have to understand where I’m coming from,” I appealed to him. “Imagine getting to experience history firsthand!” 

“I wish Lamb had never told you it was possible,” Joe sighed. “I knew once you tracked it down again, you’d never let it go.” 

“If you weren’t so scared of the unknown, you would be doing the same thing,” I argued. 

“It’s not that I’m scared of the unknown, it’s that I don’t want to take the risk.” 

I sat down in my chair with a sigh. “Well, Lamb was the last family I had, and he’s been gone for over a year now. I guess it’s not as big a risk for me.” 

“And what if you get stuck there and you can’t get back?” 

I was silent for a long moment before I answered. “I know a considerable amount about that time period. It’s a perk of being a historian while also having been raised by one. I think I could theoretically handle it for a time.” 

Joe looked skeptical. “It’s a totally different thing to be familiar with the conditions and actually living through them.” 

“Well, obviously. But, Joe, it’s two days. I can make it through two days. The space opens between time for forty-eight hours. I’m going to go through at midnight and be back by the time it closes.” 

“And if you can’t get back in time?” 

“Then I suppose I’ll spend a year there and return the next time it opens,” I said, far too casually. 

“What if the portal moves again?” Joe asked. “If I recall correctly, your uncle went through the portal and came back in Scotland. And then it shifted and he never found it again.” 

“We aren’t going to have to worry about that, because I’ll make it back in forty-eight hours,” I retorted. I had secretly wondered about that possibility, but I couldn’t let Joe know I was concerned. From the other stories I’d heard of people who used the portal for short time jumps and came back, it took years before it shifted again. But when it did, there was no telling where it would be. I’d used all of my luck tracking it down in Venice. After hearing Lamb’s stories, I was desperate to have my own chance with such a phenomenon. 

The idea of going back to another time was far too enticing to let it go. 

“So, you think you can steer yourself back to a specific time?” Joe asked, seemingly finally accepting that I’d made my decision. 

I nodded. “Yes, that’s what Lamb told me.” 

“And you have the proper clothing for the time you’re attempting to get to?” 

“I do.” 

“When is it open again?” 

“Tomorrow at midnight,” I said, the excitement building up in me. 

Joe sighed. “I don’t approve, but I’ll be there.” 

“I know you don’t, and I appreciate your physical support,” I told him with a smile. As my colleague, Joe and I had been through a lot together. I knew how crazy he thought I was — because he told me constantly — but he was still there, ready to help me. 

Once I’d tracked down the portal, I’d had a single-minded focus of how to get through it, how to dress, how to survive in a time so different from my own. I’d made preparations for the two magical days where I was going to walk through time and be a part of history for forty-eight hours. It would be a short sample of time, but it would be extraordinary no matter what. I could barely contain my excitement about this upcoming trip through time. Joe was the only person I could share my giddiness with and he was less than excited for me. 

It didn’t matter though, I was doing this and I couldn’t wait. I had a mere thirty-six hours left before I got to go through. Joe, ever the practical pessimist, insisted that I make sure things were square in this century in case, somehow, I couldn’t return. I hated his cynicism, but he did make a good point. I didn’t have much and I decided to leave it all to him just in case. There wasn’t any family left for me in the world. Joe was the closest thing. So he gets it all if I get stuck. But I won’t, so it would all have been for nothing, anyway. 

I started to feel jittery as I put on layer after layer of traditional dress in the eighteenth century. I took in as deep a breath as I could, given the tight corset I was wearing. My hands started to shake as I finished tying laces and fixing skirts. I was excited, but I was also nervous. This wasn’t just an ordinary research trip. I’d been on plenty of those throughout my entire life. This was certainly riskier. I could understand why Joe was nervous for me. But I’d made up my mind and I was doing this. It was the chance of a lifetime and I was about to embrace it. 

Joe knocked on my door at 11:00. He knew I wanted to get to the portal early so I didn’t miss a minute of my time in the past. Joe, of course, kept insisting that I go through at a normal hour so (theoretically) I wouldn’t end up in the past at night, in a time and city I was less than familiar with. I wouldn’t risk losing any time I had to explore the past, so I ignored him. 

I opened the door, smiling faintly, and gestured down to my attire. “Think I’ll do?” 

Joe returned my smile, though he looked a bit sad. “I think you will. You look stunning.” 

I brought him in for a hug before he could protest. “Thank you.” 

“I may be escorting you to the actual site where you’re going to do this, but don’t mistake this for support,” Joe said as we walked down the empty streets of Venice. I was sure I stood out like a sore thumb. It was a good thing there were very few people out and about. 

We’d tracked down the portal to a random alley off the Lagoon. It was early, yet, but we paced nearby, unable to sit still until the time came. Joe had an alarm set on his phone that went off five minutes before midnight. Our eyes locked, both of us growing increasingly nervous. Joe pulled me in for a long hug. 

“You’re smart and you know what you’re doing,” he reminded me. I nodded against his shoulder. “So keep being smart and keep your head up. Don’t be caught off guard.” 

“I won’t.” 

“And I better see you in two days time,” he said. Pulling back, he shot me a significant look. 

“You will,” I promised him. 

We hugged one more time and I turned toward the portal. It was a small fountain that hung on the wall. By all accounts, it looked old and rusty, dirty and unimportant. But for me, it was so important. Joe watched the clock on his phone, counting down for me as we got closer and closer to midnight. 

“Good luck, Beauchamp,” he said, flashing me an encouraging smile. 

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, Joe,” I replied. “And even so, I love you.” 

He rolled his eyes, a smile following after. “Love you, too. Five, four, three, two, one.” He took a deep breath. “Be on your way, Claire. And be careful.” 

“I will!” I gave him one last look before reaching my hand out and laying it against the fountain. 

It started to glow as my hand made contact. I could hear Joe gasp behind me, but I couldn’t pay any attention. My mind flashed to the time period I hoped to go to. I said the year over and over again in my mind, willing the portal to steer me there. The glowing became stronger and stronger til I was surrounded by it. I could see nothing behind me but light and the only thing I could see in front of me was the fountain. My body felt like it was starting to constrict. Everything felt tight around me and inside me. I started to fight for my breath and then it was over. The light was gone and I was standing in the same place I’d been standing before. I took a deep breath, feeling sad that the portal must not have worked. I turned to Joe to lament, but he was gone. It was my turn to gasp. I looked around and noticed that any modern touches of the 21st century had disappeared as well. 

With a laugh and a gasp, I turned back to the fountain. “It worked,” I sighed. I walked back toward the canals, looking up and down the road. I couldn’t believe that it had actually worked. I started walking off in the direction that Joe and I had come from in the 21st century. Joe had been insisting that I shouldn’t be out at night. My main goal was to find a tavern to grant me a room. It would still count as experiencing history, even if I wasn’t out on the streets. 

I knew I wouldn’t sleep, but I could plan. 

I wandered down the streets, keeping my eyes roving for both historical significance and potential dangers. Following the same path I’d walked before, I came across a tavern in a very special place. It was the same place my hotel had been standing 275 years in the future. I stared up at it in awe for a moment before a sound down the road grabbed my attention. It sounded like a scuffle breaking out. Half of me was curious and wanted to go investigate. The other half of me — my sense of self-preservation — told me to go inside. Somehow, my inner protective voice sounded a lot like Joe. Listening to the clearly wiser voice, I went inside. 

A kind older woman looked up at me as I walked in. There was a taproom off to one side and a desk where she sat off to the other side. “You wouldn’t by chance have a room for a traveler,” I asked. The woman seemed surprised by my British accent. 

“Why, you’re no’ Venetian,” she remarked. 

I picked up her Scottish accent. “Why, neither are you,” I replied, a smile growing on my face. 

She shook her head. “My husband moved me here years ago. There are but a few of us Scots here in Venice. And they find us an odd bunch.” 

“I’m sure they’ll find a solitary English woman just as odd.” 

“Likely so,” she said with a knowing smile. “So ye’re needing a room?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Well, luckily, we do have one available. Let me show ye the way.” She stepped out from behind the desk, grabbing a key, and leading me up a set of stairs. I marveled at the building and it’s antique (though not at this time) structure. It was incredible to be experiencing such a place. 

The kind woman opened the door for me and showed me what I needed. I nodded with a smile to her. “Thank you so much, uh…” I trailed off, not knowing what to call her. 

“Ye can call me Mrs. Fitz,” she said. 

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Fitz.” 

I spent a few hours writing down things in the journal I’d smuggled in my skirts. Things I’d observed, things I planned to find once it was daytime. I noted the kindly Mrs. Fitz and the fact that I’d found a Scot in Venice. My jitters had been keeping me awake for the past few days. Even though I didn’t want to, I succumbed to sleep, hoping it would only be for a few hours. Without an alarm clock, I was risking a lot. 

The tolling of a bell tower woke me hours later. I sat up, breathing hard, unsure of what time it actually was. The lack of clocks was my first frustration. The sun did not seem to be very high in the sky as I peered out my window. I assumed it was still early enough in the morning and I hadn’t missed prime exploring hours. 

I straightened my skirts and ran down the stairs, eager to go outside again. Mrs. Fitz stopped me at the bottom of the stairs. “I thought ye’d be hungry,” she said, pointing me to a small breakfast ready on one of the tables in the taproom. 

Her kindness was astounding to me. I knew most Scots in this time hated the British. I couldn’t really understand why she was being so generous to me. Perhaps she missed her home, even with the British creeping into it. I thanked her profusely and sat down to eat quickly. Eating at my usual, far too fast pace, I threw back the breakfast, taking note of the eighteenth century meal, while also trying not to taste it.

I left right after my breakfast, telling Mrs. Fitz I was off to see some people. She didn’t ask more than that and I was relieved. Wandering around the city was breathtaking. While some buildings looked familiar, others did not. The mixture of architecture that would stand the test of time and buildings that looked like they were already in disrepair was astounding. Its citizens were already bustling about their days. I tried to keep pace with the people walking around me, instead of stopping every few steps to take it all in. Even if that was what I wanted to do. 

After walking for an undetermined amount of time, I found myself in front of St. Mark’s. I breathed out in awe. It looked the same, and somehow different. In this time, it had already been standing for hundreds of years. Another couple hundred must not have altered it all too much. I’d spent weeks in Venice in the 21st century, tracking down the portal. Standing at St. Mark’s felt like finding a friend in a crowd of strangers. It was comfortingly familiar. 

I turned around to the square behind me, looking at daily life unfolding before me. My hand was itching to take out my journal and note my findings. Of course, I couldn’t. 

Turning from the basilica and the square at large, I tried to rejoin the bustle. Everyone had somewhere to be. Well, everyone except me. 

As I kept walking, my foot caught on a cobblestone and I pitched forward. My hands flew out in front of me, preparing to catch myself. Instead, a strong set of arms grabbed around my abdomen, keeping me from hitting the ground. I looked up in shock, meeting a pair of striking blue eyes. A gasp escaped from me before I could stop it. My hands gripped his arms as he continued to hold me. 

“Are ye alright?” he asked me. 

Another Scot. How was this possible? 

“Yes, thanks to you,” I replied, trying to catch my breath. I wasn’t so sure if it was the fall or the stranger that had made me lose it in the first place. 

“But of course, lass. Happy to help,” he said, his tricorn tipping slightly. He removed his hands from around me. I realized my hands were still on his arms and I slowly removed them. I could almost feel the loss. 

“You saved me from marking up my face, so I greatly appreciate it,” I added, unsure of what to say. All I knew was that I didn’t really want to part ways. 

He smiled, glancing at my face before meeting my eyes again. “It would be a real shame to let a face such as yers be marked.” 

I felt my cheeks grow warm and knew a (likely embarrassing) blush was spreading. “Well, thank you.” 

“Ye’re a sassenach,” he remarked. 

I looked up at him, recognizing the word he used. I’d spent time enough in Scotland with Uncle Lamb to know the insult. “Excuse me?” 

“I dinna mean it as an insult,” he quickly covered. “Just surprising to find an English woman in Italy.” 

One brow raised in reply. “Imagine my surprise to find a Scot.” 

There was a long silence between us, neither quite knowing what to say. Finally, he cleared his throat, bowing his head slightly. “Weel, I’m afraid I must be going. I’ve business to attend to.” 

I almost felt disappointed. It was silly. He tipped his hat to me and started to walk past me. “Wait!” I called impulsively. He turned around and gave me a confused look. “You haven’t even given me your name.” 

He almost looked amused as he took the few steps back toward me. “Of course. Where are my manners?” He nodded toward me. “The name’s James Fraser.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James Fraser,” I replied. “And thank you, once again.” He shot me an expectant look. I laughed when I realized I hadn’t given my name in return. “I’m Claire. Claire Beauchamp.” 

“Pleasure to meet ye as well, Mistress Beauchamp.” He smiled at me, though it held a hint of sadness. “I really must be off.” 

“Of course. Until next time,” I said, knowing regretfully that there wouldn’t be a next time. 

I watched him leave, his tall figure just visible over the crowd. Never in my life had such a simple interaction left me feeling so many things in such a short time. Perhaps it was the past that was messing with me. Or perhaps James Fraser was just a captivating man. 

Or perhaps it was both. 

I spent the rest of my day wandering around the city, taking breaks here and there to rest. My mission was to absorb as much history as I could in the short stay I had in the past. Somehow, no matter where I went, my eyes locked on any particularly tall person, wondering if it was Mr. Fraser. His blue eyes and striking smile had been stuck in my mind all day. 

When I returned to the tavern late in the evening, Mrs. Fitz was ready for me. She quickly began interrogating me about my day, making sure I’d eaten and had taken care to avoid bad parts of the city. I regaled her with my explorations, happily telling her about the things I’d seen and experienced. I left out the part about meeting James Fraser. For whatever reason, I wanted to keep it to myself. I half-wondered if she’d know the fellow Scot. 

“Now, did ye hear anything about the ball tomorrow?” she asked, pushing a bowl of some sort of soup at me.

“A ball?” I asked. 

“Well, a masquerade, really,” she corrected. “It’s to be a large to do. Ye should go.” 

I watched her, trying to make up my mind. It would be quite an experience to attend an eighteenth century masquerade. I would need to be quite aware of the time though, so I didn’t miss the portal before it closed. Joe would kill me if I had to spend a whole year here. 

“It sounds intriguing, but I wouldn’t have anything to wear,” I told her. 

Mrs. Fitz smiled mischievously. “Not to worry. I’ll find something perfect. I know people.” 

Her comment worried me slightly, but not enough to ask her not to try. A thrum of excitement passed over me as I thought of what could happen at an event like this. 

The next day started in almost the exact way. I wandered through the city again. My travels ended earlier as I needed to return to the tavern so Mrs. Fitz could help me get ready for the masquerade. She seemed all too giddy to dress me up in a big, elaborate, and beautiful gown. I glanced down at the black dress with gold accents and was mesmerized by it. I’d never worn something so ornate in my life. Giving me a once over, she seemed to deem me masquerade-ready. With a proud smile, she handed me a mask. 

“Ye’ll need that for the party,” she said, nodding to it. I held it in my hand, noting the white mask with the gold trim. It would work well with my dress for sure. 

I’d never been to a masquerade party in the 21st century. I remembered that a friend in college had gone to one and said she’d found it creepy. It would be an interesting function, no doubt. I didn’t know a soul in Venice except for Mrs. Fitz. My brain was all too fast to supply the image of Mr. Fraser as well. I rolled my eyes at myself and picked up my skirts, ready to head to the masquerade.

My plan was to be as aware of the time as possible so I could get back to the tavern and grab my original dress before heading to the portal. Theoretically, it would all work out. 

Mrs. Fitz and I walked through the streets of Venice til we reached a beautiful, palatial building. We both stared up at it for a moment before looking back at each other. With a nod, we started climbing the steps and following the procession of people entering the building. 

It was an incredible sight. The ballroom was breathtaking, outfitted in marble and sprinkled with gold statues. I was in historian’s heaven. I looked around at the other people there. The dresses were all as elaborate as mine, all faces covered with intricate masks. The skirts swirled as the ladies danced, fabric flowing around them in a dizzying array of colors. 

I watched the dancing from afar. The steps were foreign to me and I did not want to stick out. I held my mask dutifully in front of my face. I’d lost Mrs. Fitz a while ago when she found people she knew. Every now and then, I peered around, trying to see if I recognized the dress or mask she was wearing. Most people’s masks were tied around their heads. Mine was a handheld mask. I was grateful for the ability to remove it when I was growing overheated. 

I was standing near the door to the courtyard when a man walked past me, bumping into me slightly. “My apologies, Madam,” he said quickly. 

“Not to worry,” I replied immediately. My brain was focused on his voice. I knew that voice. “Mr. Fraser?” I asked, hoping I was right. 

He’d stopped as I spoke and watched me. Slowly, he reached up and removed his mask. With a heartstopping smile, he greeted me. “Mistress Beauchamp.” 

“Pleasure to see you again,” I said. 

He grabbed my hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. “And ye.” His eyes looked over my shoulder, to the room at large. “I was just stepping away from the…merriment for a moment. Would you care to join me?” 

I felt a smile overtake my face. I nodded. “Of course. Unless of course you have other business to attend to,” I teased. 

He rewarded me with a laugh. “None tonight. Thankfully.” 

His hand was still around mine as he started out the door and I followed him. He walked into the courtyard, the moon beaming down at us. Looking almost regretful, he released my hand. 

“It’s a beautiful evening,” I remarked, looking up at the stars. 

“Aye.” 

My gaze turned to him. “So, what is a Scot doing in Venice?” I asked. 

He cleared his throat, looking back at me. “I have an uncle in France who runs a wine business. He wanted to expand it to Italy and asked me if I would run it for him. I would have been a fool to say no.” 

“That sounds like a wonderful opportunity.” 

“Indeed,” he agreed. “I came here after I left the university in France.” 

“Do you miss Scotland?” I asked. 

“Every day,” he told me. “But this is where I need to be right now.” I nodded in understanding. “And what about ye? What brings a sassenach to Venice?” 

I laughed at his term this time, hoping a plausible answer would present itself as I laughed. “I don’t have much of a home. I was raised by my uncle and he traveled everywhere and took me right along with him. It was unusual, of course, but I enjoyed it. I suppose I’ve tried to carry on some of the same life.” 

“Ye dinna wish to settle down?” he asked. 

“Maybe someday.” I shrugged, my arms crossing at my abdomen. “But not just now.” 

His eyes lingered on me. “That’s mighty brave for a lass to travel the world by herself,” he remarked. 

“Some might call it dangerous.” 

He stepped closer to me. “That they might.” 

I felt drawn to him, just as I had yesterday. My suspicion had been correct — he was just a captivating man. “But you think it’s brave, James?” I asked. 

He nodded to me. “Aye.” Taking a breath, his hand found mine again. “And ye can call me Jamie.” 

A smile spread across my face again. “Okay then,  _ Jamie _ .” 

Jamie led me over to a bench in the courtyard and we continued talking. He told me of his upbringing in Scotland and how proud his father had been when he’d gone to school in France. His father had encouraged him to take the job his cousin had offered him. In turn, I talked as much as I could about my life. The places I’d gone with Lamb, the life we’d lived on the road. 

I had no way of knowing how long we’d been talking. It had felt like minutes and hours at the same time. Looking up at the surrounding buildings, I found a clocktower. I still had a few blessed hours before I had to leave. 

“Where is the most fascinating place ye’ve been?” he asked me. 

Looking up at him, I couldn’t help but stare. We were sitting close, his beautiful eyes boring into me. Under his gaze, I felt my breath grow short. I shrugged in reply. “I don’t know. This might be it.” 

A hushed silence fell over us as he stared back at me. I knew what my body was telling me to do. Instead, I sat still. Jamie, on the other hand, leaned slowly toward me. He was giving me the chance to move away. But I wouldn’t. We inched closer to each other. His eyes flickered down to my lips seconds before his pressed against mine. 

Our kiss was tentative at first. With a sigh, I leaned in, pressing my lips more firmly to his. I felt his hand cup my cheek as he deepened the kiss. My lips parted and his tongue found mine, dancing together delightfully. We were wrapped up in each other, in a passionate, wonderful kiss. While I was with Jamie, I seemed to forget that I was from another century, that I was due to return in a few hours. With him, I was just  _ there _ , happy and alight. We broke apart slowly, just as we’d started. His eyes opened and looked at me almost nervously. When I smiled at him, his thumb began to stroke my cheek where his hand still lingered. 

The sound from the ballroom grew louder as the door to the courtyard opened again. Jamie and I scooted further apart, though his hand grabbed mine. We weren’t alone in the courtyard any longer. He squeezed my hand, standing up and staring down at me. “Would ye like to dance with me?” he asked. His head inclined back toward the ballroom. 

“I don’t know how to,” I confessed. I stared down at my lap. 

He squeezed my hand again, pulling me to my feet this time. I looked up at him in surprise as he drew me close. “Dinna worry. I willna let ye fall,” he said with a knowing grin. Both of us were clearly thinking of our first meeting. I nodded to him in agreement and he led us back to the ballroom. 

Our masks had been forgotten in the courtyard, leaving us as the only two dancing without covered faces. He could see my nerves as he drew me close, closer than the other couples. I didn’t mind the proximity. His hand was at my waist, guiding me and keeping me close. Instead of looking around me, I stared only at him, utterly transfixed. Jamie Fraser was a marvel to me. I knew when I returned to the future, nothing would leave such a mark on me as he would. 

My eyes closed as I remembered how soon I had to give him up. It was the first time I’d looked from him since we’d started dancing. His hand at my back pressed more firmly, encouraging me to look up at him. I did, noting the question in his eyes. I shot him a small smile and shook my head. He didn’t look convinced. Still, he continued dancing and never actually asked me what had been wrong. 

Eventually, we retreated back by the door where we’d met the second time. I didn’t want to part from him. The sound of the clock tower caught my ears. I counted the chimes. My time was running out and I desperately didn’t want it to. I wanted more time with Jamie. 

He led us back out to the once again empty courtyard. We reconvened on our bench. My eyes flitted to the clock far too often. I wasn’t as present as I had been before. That was, until Jamie started telling me an impossible story. 

“Twas when I was a lad,” he said. “I was in Scotland. I’d journeyed to Inverness with my father. While I waited outside a shop for him to take care of some business, I met a man dressed very peculiarly. He fit in enough, but his clothes still looked odd.” I stared at him, wondering where he was going with this story. 

“I asked the man why he was dressed so strangely. Ye ken how wee bairns are. No manners to speak of.” I laughed with him and encouraged him to keep going. “The man bent down and knelt in front of me. He asked me if I could keep a secret. I promised the man I could. So he told me that he was from the future. That he’d traveled from two hundred years from now just to come see Scotland in all its beauty.” 

I gaped at him. “How long ago was this?” I asked. I’m sure it wasn’t quite the question he was expecting. 

He looked a bit surprised, but answered anyway. “It would have been about twenty years, I think.” 

I gasped softly.  _ Lamb _ , I thought to myself. Could it have been possible that Lamb and I had met the same person in our travels — him meeting a boy in Scotland and me meeting a man in Italy? It seemed impossible.  _ But time travel is seemingly impossible too _ . 

“Ye must think I’m mad,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. 

I shook my head at him, my hand cupping his cheek. “No, actually, I don’t.” 

Jamie smiled at me. He leaned back toward me, bringing me in closer. His lips were back on mine, kissing me soundly. I clutched to him, knowing this would be my last chance. 

When we broke apart, I glanced at the clock tower. If I didn’t go back to the tavern for my things, I could spend a bit more time with Jamie. My journal would be abandoned there. It could alter history, but at the moment I didn’t really care. I knew that when I got back, my memories would be sharp enough to write it all back down. 

I could feel it all slipping away and I felt desperate. My hands held onto Jamie’s tighter. My eyes tried to drink in every detail of him. I didn’t want to lose him, but I had to. 

The time came when I knew I had to part with him. He stood up, reaching out to me. “Should we go back inside? We could dance again.” 

I wanted nothing more than to dance with him again. I stood up and stepped into his arms. I kissed him with all the desperation coursing through me. His arms came around me and held me. He returned the kiss with an equal amount of fervor. It almost seemed like he knew the end was coming as well. As we pulled apart, we were both panting. I felt tears building in my eyes. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” I told him. He looked confused. I took advantage of his confusion and gave him one more kiss before I ran from him, the courtyard, and the palace at large. 

I tore through the city as fast as I could. Tears spilled over my eyes, running down my cheeks. In all the times I’d imagined coming back to the past, I never imagined meeting someone like Jamie. He’d taken my breath away. I knew when I returned to the future, a small part of my heart would be here. 

The clock hadn’t chimed over the city yet. I still had time. And there it was — the alley, the fountain, the way back to my home. I held my hand out to the fountain, but I hesitated. It was stupid, really. There was nothing for me here and if I didn’t catch the portal now, there was a chance it would be gone by next year. But still, my hand wouldn’t touch it. Seconds ticked by as I wasted my precious time. 

The sound of footsteps caught my attention. He threw himself into the alley, moving so fast he almost fell. I looked over, shocked to see Jamie righting himself and staring at me. “This is where ye had to go?” I nodded. His eyes narrowed in my direction. “Ye’re like him. The man from my past.” 

“I am.” 

Jamie walked slowly closer to me. “What would happen if ye didna go?” 

I shook my head at him. “I don’t know.” 

He closed the space between us and held my face in his hands, staring at me, imploring me. “Would ye risk it?” 

“What?” I couldn’t believe what he was asking. 

“I ken I’m no’ much,” he said, “but I’ve ne’er met anyone like ye, Claire Beauchamp. And I canna imagine letting ye go just now.” 

I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut me off. His mouth crashed against mine, kissing me deeply. My body responded as it had every time this evening. Without really meaning to, my arms came up and wrapped around his waist. He held me tighter, turning me slightly so I wasn’t right next to the portal. 

Breaking apart with a gasp, he urged me, “Dinna go. Stay here. Wi’ me.” He was pleading and I didn’t know what to do. Any moment the clock tower would chime and my window would close. My eyes tore from him to the fountain behind him. They bounced back to him, noting the desperation on his face. His arms tightened around me. “Please,” he begged. His forehead touched mine as he stared at me. 

I felt his touch at my back. I looked into his eyes. I could feel his heart racing underneath my hand on his chest. His body surrounded mine and somehow, my body knew I was safe. 

And in that moment, there was no doubt in my mind. 

My hand moved from his chest to wrap around his neck. “Okay,” I whispered. He gaped at me for a split second before I pressed my lips back to his. He held me impossibly tight. We were tangled together, kissing each other with abandon. I felt my back hit the bricks of the wall behind me at the same time his tongue found mine again. 

The sound of the clock chiming pulled me from our embrace. I looked toward the sky for a moment, listening to the number of hours chime in the distance. My eyes found the fountain, noting for the first time that it wasn’t quite as dingy in this time. Now, it was surely back to being just a fountain. 

I looked at Jamie, realizing the gravity of the decision I’d made. He looked just as nervous as I felt. His hand reached up and stroked my face, his thumb moving against my cheek. We stared at each other, both of us at a loss for words. A huge, life changing decision had been made and we both knew it. 

Jamie leaned his forehead back to mine with a small sigh. “Thank ye,” he breathed. I gave him a soft kiss in reply. 

Suddenly, he stepped back from me. “I still remember how he said it worked,” he told me. I must have looked confused. “The man I met from — well, from yer time. He said it opened once a year.” 

“That’s right.” 

“There’s this tradition in Scotland,” he told me, still staying away from me. I nodded for him to continue. “Tis called handfasting. The couple is marrit for a year and a day and at the end of that time, they can either separate or get marrit officially.” 

I smiled at him, taking a step closer to him. I reached out and grabbed onto his coat. “Are you suggesting we handfast?” 

He shrugged, a shadow of a grin on his face. “The timeline would be right. Live wi’ me, be wi’ me. And if at the end of a year, when yer magic door opens back up again, ye wish to part from me, I’ll bring ye back here myself.” 

My arms wrapped around him. I paused with my lips a breath away from his. “I accept,” I whispered. I could feel his smile against my mouth as his arms wrapped back around me. 

There was so much uncertainty, so much we didn’t know about each other — so much I didn’t know about living in this century. But as I felt the solidness of his arms around me, the surety of his kiss, I knew I would be alright. 

**One Year Later**

Joe paced in front of the fountain as he’d done the year before. He’d cursed Claire for going and worse, for getting stuck there. Watching her disappear in a beam of light had been terrifying. And for two days, he’d worried about her constantly, even though she’d assured him she’d be back. But she wasn’t. 

For a year, he tried to carry on with his life. He went back to Boston, back to his family. So many times, though, he found his mind on Claire, wondering what she was up to or how she was faring in a different century. More than anything, what he wanted was answers. Even history hadn’t been able to provide that. 

So he was back in front of the fountain, praying that it was still where the portal would be. For the better part of a day, he camped out by the fountain. He ate there, accidentally slept there, and read a book as he waited for her return. 

A flash of light caught his attention, drawing him from his book. He shot out of his chair and raced to the fountain. Just as the light was starting to flourish, it went out. Joe was about to yell when he spotted something sitting in the empty fountain. It was an old piece of paper with his name on it, wrapped in a ribbon. He couldn’t open it fast enough. 

_ My dear friend, Joe,  _

_ I’m sure you’re camped out in front of the fountain, ready to tell me off for missing the portal closing last year. I’m hoping this letter will actually make it through and can tell you my story.  _

_ The eighteenth century was (well, is) brilliant. It truly is a historian’s dream to be here. I find myself marveling at ordinary things. Those in my life (particularly those who know the truth of me) keep shaking their heads at me.  _

_ I should tell you why I didn’t come back last year, and more than that, why I won’t be coming back at all. The night I should have returned, there was a masquerade. I was encouraged to attend by a kind scotswoman I met upon my arrival in the eighteenth century. While there, I (re)met the most wonderful man. His name is Jamie Fraser. He is a Scot, running his uncle’s wine business in Venice. He was so captivating to me and as I watched the hours tick away at our time together, I dreaded leaving him. I know how unlike me it must all sound — giving up my life for a perfect stranger in a different century. But more than anything, I wanted a chance to be with him and a chance to see what we could be.  _

_ He knows the truth of me. Actually, when he was a child, he met Uncle Lamb in Scotland. I still cannot wrap my mind around that fact. Jamie found me at the portal and begged me to stay and somehow, I couldn’t say no. He promised me if after a year, I wanted to return, he’d bring me to the portal himself.  _

_ It’s now a year later and I’m afraid I won’t be coming back. I’m writing this letter next to the fountain. Jamie brought me here so I could try to send word of my life to you.  _

_ So here it is. Jamie and I are so very happy together. Our lives have been wonderful for the past year. Life is so different in the 18th century than it was in the 21st, but with him, I can’t seem to mind the differences. I love him so completely that life without him would feel meaningless. We discovered just last week that I am with child. It was faster than I would have planned in the 21st century, but I find myself absolutely thrilled. He talks of taking me back to Scotland someday, but I’ve assured him that for now, we’re safer in Italy. I won’t tell him why, but he seems to heed my warning well enough.  _

_ I shall miss you, Joe. I have treasured our friendship. Your voice is the one in the back of my head telling me to be careful. And I hope it always will be. Thank you for your silent support, even if you didn’t actually support me. I have found a life here that I never could have imagined, but wouldn’t trade for the world (or even a toilet). I hope you are well and happy. I promise you I am. _

_ With all my love, _

_ Claire Beauchamp Fraser _

  
  
  



End file.
